Father's Day
by The Pixess
Summary: The title is pretty much the concept Elphaba's views on the holiday.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Yes, I know Father's Day is only an EARTHLY holiday (sorry to all Canadian/UK/Australian people who pointed out it's not just in America) and probably wasn't instated in the first place until long after the Wizard's time. Work with me here, people.**

Tapping her feathery pink pen to her chin, Galinda paused over the letter she was composing. "Dearest Popsical," she read aloud. She looked up at her roommate. "Elphie, what else should I say?"

Elphaba didn't so much as turn her head; she was seated at the window stool, which wasn't exactly a rare haunt for her except that it was raining. Even with a shield of glass separating them, Galinda couldn't believe she had actually gotten that close to water.

"Elphie?" she prompted again, now somewhat concerned.

"I'm sure I don't know," the green girl replied, almost tiredly.

"Well of course you do," Galinda replied impatiently. "You know everything. What did you write in your letter to Frex?"

There was a pause.

"Nessa's writing it," Elphaba said tonelessly. "Why don't you go ask her?"

Galinda cocked her head to the side; something wasn't quite right here, and she couldn't imagine why. "Is something the matter, Elphaba?"

She finally turned towards the other girl. "What could I possibly upset about?" she said gently. "Go ask Nessarose what to say in your letter."

Hesitantly, Galinda stood up from her frilly bubblegum mattress. "Alright," she said tentatively, "but if you need me…"

"I know where to find you," Elphaba replied breezily, already facing the window again.

She watched the other girl's reflection as she left, stealing puzzled glances over her shoulder as she went. Maybe it would have made her made her feel better to talk about it with Galinda, she realized belatedly. But then again, what good what it do? Everyone adored Galinda, especially her parents. Why else would they buy her all those ridiculous costing (and, in her frank opinion, looking) outfits if they didn't love her? It could be that they didn't have anything better to do with it, but Elphaba doubted this. So what could spoiled, innocent little Galinda know about what she was going through?

Nessarose was writing their Father's Day letter to Frex; she very much doubted he would miss her penmanship. Heck, he might very well accuse her of contaminating darling Nessie's signature by putting her own on the same card. All the other students- much like Galinda- were running around, trying to think of creative ways to say I love you and excited about the new holiday the Wizard had just instated. She was sitting alone, looking at nothing, trying to decide whether or not it would be offensive just to put her damn name on a card!

_It's not your fault,_ she had told herself, for an innumerable amount of time. She whispered it to herself now, forcing herself to believe it true. _It's his issue, not yours. You can't help the way you were born._

But as she stared at her reflection in the glass, she could only see a monster, green as sin and just as vile. She couldn't cry, but the rain seemed to visualize the tears for her.

Elphaba hated Father's Day.

**A/N: Okay, this is my first shot at anything not humor in the Wicked section, so feedback is DESPERATELY APPRECHIATED! Possibly a two shot if people like it enough for me to continue.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Dedication: For R.G.**

Her green roommate was furrowed determinedly beneath her checkered bedspread when Galinda finally came back that same evening. She wasn't surprised; after paying her visit to Nessarose (who had been coolly polite to her, but hadn't really been that helpful) she'd also consulted several of her friends, who had promptly dragged her off without a word of advice to some party they had planned for the holiday- and as such, it was now quite late. Trying to tiptoe on her high heels so as not to disturb Elphaba, she slipped over to her side of the dormitory and began preparing for bed.

First she removed her shoes, a pair of vivaciously pink things which sparkled in the light whenever she moved. This, she had read in some magazine or other, was to draw attention to a girl's oft-overlooked dainty ankles. How many boys bothered to ogle a girl's ankles Galinda didn't know, but it was her father's money anyway and as such she had risked the investment. It was little things like that that set apart the best from the rest.

Next came off her skirt, a slanted-cut affair that emphasized her waist without giving it the appearance of curving in the wrong places. The lace trim on the edges gave it an extra note of flair that Galinda loved. It seemed like the sprinkles on top of the yummy material, and it seemed like an extra little treat, just for her. She'd gotten the package from home that contained the darling thing the first day she had ever failed a test at Shiz, and even now whenever she wore it an extra bit of hope seemed to fill her.

After that was carefully folded onto a chair, Miss Galinda removed her bodice, which had an uncommonly high collar with ruffles spouting about the neck. Popsical had brought it back for her after his last business trip to Filaan. The first time she had worn it, all her girlfriends had admired it greatly and Galinda had felt very proud, as though she were the most special girl in the whole school because she caught on to a trend before it had so much as entered the country. Elphaba, however, had snorted when she saw her put it on.

"You look like you hacked off an old woman's ringlets," she said, looking pointedly at the curly lace that spewed forth like a snowy volcano from the lapels. When the other girl tried to argue, Elphie had stated curtly, "Sometimes, my pretty, less is more. I don't know anything about fashion, but I have enough eyes to see that that neckline overwhelms you."

Now Galinda mulled over her tart friend's words as she started rummaging though her closet. What had she meant, _overwhelmed_ her? Why they're wasn't one article of clothing Galinda Upland couldn't carry off if she tried! The more attraction you got from your clothes, the better- everyone knew that! Elphie was just ignorant because she always got the wrong kind of press due to her skin collar; she had been so traumatized that she thought having all eyes on her was a bad thing, poor dear. But Galinda had never been overwhelmed in her life, she was always the fairest, the prettiest, the bes-

Well, no, she thought, interrupting herself. No, that's not quite true. Unbidden, an image came into her mind; it was the night before she left for Shiz, and against all will and reason, she was terrified. All the other girls would like her, _of course_ they would; what wasn't to like? And as for grades, who even carried about them? Her whole goal in going to a university was to catch a man, not a diploma. But still- she had never been so far from home before, and being a delicate gentlewoman, she told herself, it was only natural to feel slightly- nervous.

She'd sat at her bedroom window, trying to motivate herself to put on a smile and go down to her going away party. Everyone was waiting for her; she should have made her entrance twenty minutes ago. It was most unlike her to be late for a party; usually her mother had to restrain her in order for her to be fashionably late.

Then, there had been a knock on the door. Hesitantly, Galinda had opened it, to find Popiscal standing there. He was home for once, just for the occasion, and she had instantly felt guilty about keeping him waiting. He looked so fetching in his distinguished shirttails, and yet the look on his face was troubled.

"What is it, Sugarplum?" he'd asked, gravely from tobacco but kindly in tone.

No asking what the hold up was. No queries about why had he wasted such and such credit on a gown if she wasn't even going to flaunt it- just outright concern. Galinda had been awed, sure he was there to chew her out. She realized now in retrospect that she barely knew her father, and that she ought to have been ashamed of that fact. At the time, however, she had merely busted into tears and blubbered her insecurities to him.

He did not recoil. He did not try to interject as she ranted incoherently. He merely sat beside her on the bed, patted her hand, and when she had finished stated calmly, "You have already claimed our hearts, Galinda. I will never ask for mine back. You need not worry about coveting anyone else's."

And in that moment, though the words spanned too far for her comprehension, his calm tone had soothed her, and she had gone back down to the party as the belle of the ball, not some sobbing ninny.

In the present Galinda stood in her nightgown, and she realized that for the longest time all she could remember from that night was what everyone had worn, not that little episode- which was what really mattered. All the baubles and bangles had distracted her from what was truly important, and here she realized she had just done the same thing. Supposedly it was Father's Day, and yet it was ten minutes to midnight and she had not done one thing for the man who had sired her- other than get a rather nasty wine stain on one of the outfits he had so generously purchased.

She picked her incomplete letter up from where she had left it. "_Dearest Popsical" _was still all it said. But what could she possibly say to a man who she had been in contact with her whole life but had never cared to understand? Oh, how could she have forgotten what a gift her own blood was?

_"Dearest Popsical,_

_You really are dear to me. Happy Father's Day._

_-Your Galinda"_

As she sealed the envelope shut, Galinda belatedly realized her roommate was right. Sometimes, less really was more.


End file.
